


Traditions

by canarypaper



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Biblical quotations, Christmas in July because why not that's why, Fluff, M/M, like rot your teeth fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 16:53:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19430137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canarypaper/pseuds/canarypaper
Summary: "And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.And the angel said unto them, 'Terribly sorry, what with the divine light and all that, I just seem to have taken a wrong turn. Er, does there happen to be a little town around here somewhere? Bethlehem? I’m awful with directions and I’ve got a rather important to-do to attend.'"Crowley is feeling blue. Aziraphale helps. A Christmas fic in July just because.Spoilers for the show and books, to be safe.





	Traditions

**Traditions**

********By canarypaper

  
  
  
  
  


*

_The Gospel of Luke, 2:2-9_

_‘… And Mary brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn._

_And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night._

_And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid._

_And the angel said unto them, “Terribly sorry, what with the divine light and all that, I just seem to have taken a wrong turn. Er, does there happen to be a little town around here somewhere? Bethlehem? I’m awful with directions and I’ve got a rather important to-do to attend.”_

_And the shepherds, overcome and awed, pointed the way to the angel._

_“Oh, excellent, jolly good. Thank you ever so much, really. Most kind of you. Well, ta-ta!”_

_Thusly, the shepherds looked to each other and spake aloud: “Ta-ta?”_

_And lo, a sheep bleated in reply.’_

_*_

Crowley’s single greatest act of spreading discord during the Christmas season was the Furby craze of 1998. Upon explaining to his superiors what a Furby actually was (“freakish hamster” didn’t exactly illuminate anything for anyone), Crowley went on to crow about how people the world over were getting in fights at toy stores, paying hundreds for counterfeits on the internet, and causing lots of headaches in general over pure and utter materialism. Not only that, but the creatures were nightmarish in form, with terrifying dead-eyed stares, a language that sounded vaguely menacing, and would definitely still make noises even after a parent ripped out the batteries and shoved it as far back into a closet as it would go. 

Hell didn’t quite understand his genius, but really, did they ever?

(Aziraphale said they were “cutesy-wootsey”, so Crowley hid hundreds around his bookshop. He’d still find one, occasionally, peering out at him from between dusty tomes and cooing.)

Christmas was the prime season for sowing mischief and, normally, Crowley lived for it. 

This holiday season, however, the demon was more subdued. Strolling through Covent Garden while enjoying the twinkly lights customary for the season, Aziraphale noticed that his friend seemed rather glum. His shoulders slumped, his normally amused smirk was nowhere to be seen, and he looked as though he was about a million miles away in his own head. 

(Aziraphale briefly thought “As far away as Alpha Centauri” and shuddered.)

“My dear Crowley,” he began after swallowing down a mouthful of absolutely scrumptious hot cocoa, “what seems to be the matter? I thought you enjoyed coming to see the lights? I know it’s nothing like the pyrotechnics you like, but they are rather splendid, aren’t they?”

“I like the lights well enough, angel.” He looked up to observe the garland strung high above them and Aziraphale watched the bulbs shine in the reflection of his sunglasses. “Just not feeling the festivities this go-round.”

Aziraphale frowned and looked down at his cocoa. When he glanced back up, overwhelmed by concern for his dearest friend, he saw the demon watching a family closely. 

They were exiting a restaurant. A woman and her wife were swinging one of their children between them by their joined hands, all of them laughing merrily. The other older children, a boy and a girl, were excitedly and animatedly talking about what they wanted for Christmas that year, and how they couldn’t wait to see gifts under the tree. 

“Ah, yes, that family is having a happy holiday, aren’t they?” Aziraphale smiled to himself. Humans were truly such amusing creatures. 

“Yes…” Crowley sounded far away again. He shoved his hands in his coat pockets quite abruptly and walked briskly until he found a bench. He dropped down onto it, practically melting into the wrought iron. 

Aziraphale perched a bit more primly and rolled his cocoa cup between his palms. After enjoying the ambiance of the lights and a busking violinist for a moment, Aziraphale cleared his throat. He decided to change tact. “I’ve always been quite fond of Hannukah, myself. Latkes truly are one of the most divinely inspired foods, I think. Had the most delectable latkes in Warsaw, once. Sometime around 1700. Or was it 1800? Oh, I can’t even remember, but they were so-”

“What do you think it’s like?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale blinked. “What, Warsaw?”

Crowley waved his arm around, gesturing vaguely at the crowds milling about. “No! You know… having a family and all that... stuff.”

Aziraphale found himself quite unprepared for that question. 

Objectively, he figured that all the angels, archangels, and principalities were his siblings, while God was his mother, or father, parental figure, whatever. Even demons must be his siblings, he supposed. Estranged, but siblings nonetheless. 

But, looking at Crowley, looking at the downturn of his lips and the furrow in his brow, he knew that wasn’t what he meant. 

“What part?” Aziraphale asked. “Which part of... family?”

Crowley shrugged, leaning his head to rest on the back of the bench. “Growing up. Having a mum and dad who just… are around and give hugs or nonsense like that. Who still talk to you even after you make them furious. Brothers. Sisters. Husbands and wives. People who share that unique human connection. All of that. Family holiday traditions, like the ones you see on the telly.”

Something felt like it was stuck in Aziraphale’s throat and he blinked very quickly. He’d never really thought about it. In all his thousands of years of existence on Earth, he never felt that particular tug on his heartstrings. But, watching Crowley watching the oblivious humans around him, he marveled that it had never occurred to him before.

“Seeing the boy, Adam, watching him choose his father, his real father all those months ago…” Crowley stopped, considering. “It made me think about it. About family.”

“Oh.” 

Crowley sniffed, looking at his fingernails. “The only father I’ve got kicked me out.”

Aziraphale felt something in his chest constrict. It was one of the few things that really, truly filled Aziraphales heart with contempt for the Almighty. He sighed. “Well… our fathe- mother- you know, she was never around much for… for any of us, really.” Aziraphale ducked to try and catch Crowley’s eye. “And I’d rather go back to the fourteenth century than holiday with Michael and Gabriel.”

The demon chuckled at that, but it was mostly hollow. Clapping his hands on his thighs, he stood up, shaking out the creases on his coat. “Well, angel, I’ve got… plants to threaten.” He cleared his throat and pushed up his sunglasses. “I’ll see you around.”

Aziraphale gave him a faint smile. He watched the back of his best friend, bent as though carrying a great weight. And all Aziraphale wanted to do was lift the load from his shoulders. The demon began to disappear into the mass of holiday revellers.

Suddenly, like a bolt from the blue, Aziraphale had a brilliant idea. 

“Crowley! Crowley, wait!” He was up and running after him. 

The demon stopped and turned, raising his eyebrow expectantly. 

Aziraphale grasped his friend by the arms, huffing a little with exertion. “Come round the bookshop on the 25th, alright?” He looked eagerly into the demons eyes, just able to make out the yellow beyond the lenses. His coat was soft and his fingers curled into the wool, chasing the demon’s warmth. 

Crowley’s face softened, laying one hand over Aziraphales. “Alright, angel, alright.”

The angel gave him a blinding smile before squeezing his arms and letting him go off into the night. 

Crowley didn’t know it, but Aziraphale had A Big Plan.

*

_The Gospel of Matthew 2:2-7_

  
  


_‘Now after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem,_

_Saying, “Where is He who has been born King of the Jews? For we have seen His star in the East and have come to worship Him.”_

_And a fourth wise man among them with flaming hair said, “I don’t know if you’ve ever rode over several countries on a camel, Herod, but my back is killing me so you’d best get a move on.”_

_Then Herod, when he had privily called the wise men, enquired of them diligently what time the star appeared._

_And he sent them to Bethlehem, and said, “Go and search diligently for the young child; and when ye have found him, bring me word again, that I may come and worship him also.”_

_And the fourth wise man scoffed, “Yeah, not bloody likely. You’d just ruin all the fun.”_

_When they had heard the king, they departed; and, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, till it came and stood over where the young child was.’_

  
  


*

The 25th of December came quickly and Crowley found himself in an exceedingly foul mood. He lay listeless in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He knew he should get up and see Aziraphale, but… he couldn’t put his finger on whatever this feeling was that had him acting like a fool.

So, he stalked around his flat aimlessly, checking the leaves on his plants over and over again, unable to find a single spot to take his frustration out on.

He sat down. Stood up. Paced. Paced again.

He didn’t understand what had him so wound up this year. He’d been completely out of sorts since the almost-Apocalypse. He’d been having thoughts about… things that he never paid attention to before. Human things. He felt closer to them, somehow. Closer now that he and Aziraphale had decided to be on “their own side”. 

What did an angel and demon who didn’t really belong to Heaven or Hell anymore have to exist for?

Certainly, Aziraphale existed to do good deeds and eat good food and read his books. Crowley wanted his angel to only ever be happy, and he would do his damnedest to protect him, always. But Crowley felt himself becoming… meaningless. 

His whole existence revolved around causing trouble on this planet and now, more than anything, he just wanted to preserve it. Keep it healthy and whole. It was home, he supposed. As much as anywhere had ever been or would ever be for him. 

Groaning and running a hand through his hair, Crowley just resigned himself to driving over to the bookshop as Aziraphale had asked. His angel always helped him feel like more. More than just a fallen angel, at least. 

  
  


*

  
  
The Bentley rolled to a stop outside of the bookstore. A few happy couples strolled on by, stopping to wish him a Happy Christmas. He just gave them a tight grimace and slumped his way to the shop. 

“Aziraphale?” he called, pushing the door open. He frowned. The front of the shop was dark. He slipped in and shut the door behind him. “Aziraphale, are you here?”

A concerned squawk echoed from the back room, followed by a high-pitched scream and a thud. Then the sound of several smaller things falling and shattering with a tinkling sound. 

Concerned, Crowley hurried further into the shop. “Angel, are you alright back here?”

Rounding the corner, he was utterly unprepared for the sight that greeted him. 

Sprawled out in the middle of the floor, a toppled ladder next to him, lay Aziraphale. His hair was absolutely covered in tinsel and glitter dust. Around him lay dozens of shattered Christmas tree baubles that he had been, presumably, hanging on the absolutely massive tree before him. 

“You’re early,” Aziraphale squeaked. 

Crowley rushed over to help the angel sit-up and dust decorative glitter off him. Aziraphale had removed his coat and rolled his sleeves to the elbow. Crowley felt a distinct flutter in his stomach at seeing his angel out of his usual beloved coat. 

“Are you alright?” 

Aziraphale nodded, sheepish. “Oh yes, yes quite. Just wounded pride, really.” He smiled brightly at Crowley, blue eyes sparkling like the glitter caught in his soft hair. “I’m so glad you came!”

Crowley smiled back despite himself, pulling his friend to his feet. “Of course I came, angel. Anything you want, you know.”

Aziraphale blushed and cleared his throat. “Oh, but you’re still early and not everything is quite done yet!”

Confused, Crowley scrunched up his face. “What’s not done?”

Aziraphale threw his arms wide, gesturing at the room around them, suddenly extremely crestfallen. “All of it!” 

It was only then that Crowley really took in his surroundings. 

There was, of course, the enormous tree. It was absolutely slathered in tinsel and candy canes. There were handmade paper garlands strung from every beam and rafter, seemingly cut from old newspapers. Fairy lights shimmered on every branch of the tree, wrapped around them tightly. There were figurines of Father Christmas and reindeer covering every flat surface, along with several twinkling menorahs, advent wreaths, a yule log in a fireplace Crowley didn’t even know existed, and other objects from cultures he couldn’t recall. 

Set on a round little table, Aziraphale had set up a feast of all different kinds of Christmas sweets: cakes, biscuits, macarons, candied fruit, a carafe of eggnog, and something he couldn’t identify that definitely looked homemade by an inexperienced baker and smelled decidedly burnt. 

There were two stockings over the fireplace, each embroidered with a single letter by someone who, by the looks of it, had never used a sewing needle in their life. One red felt stocking had a giant “C”, the other green stocking had a smaller, crooked “A”. They were bursting at the seams with candy and trinkets. 

That lovely fluttering feeling Crowley had in his stomach suddenly spread into a warmth that went right to his toes and made his chest feel tight. Slowly, he pulled off his sunglasses and looked at Aziraphale who was nervously smoothing the front of his waistcoat. 

“Did- Did you do this? All this?” the demon asked, dumbstruck. 

“Well, yes, uh.” Aziraphale clutched his hands together. “Yes, I did. Didn’t even miracle a bit of it. It’s not very good, of course, I’ve not done much crafting in my life, you know. More of a reader, me. But, uh.” He closed his mouth, unsure. “What. What do you think?”

Slowly, reverently, Crowley turned round and round, taking every detail in. Everything looked shabby, rushed, amateur and absolutely-

“Perfect,” Crowley breathed. 

Aziraphale smiled, looking relieved. “I know we don’t generally celebrate holidays like this, doesn’t seem overly important when you know the whole story, but...” He stopped again. “Crowley, you’ve done so much for me, ever since we’ve known each other. And I know you don’t want me to thank you, so let me give you this. I wanted to start a… a family tradition, if you will.”

Crowley spun back to face him. “A family tradition?”

Aziraphale nodded, his eyes wide and sincere. “A family tradition. Because. You must know you’re my family, dear. You always have been.” He stepped toward the demon, slowly, as though he didn’t want to spook him. “You’re not my brother, or sister, cousin, any of those things,” he said, huffing out a slight laugh. “You’re just… You’re my Crowley.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, overwhelmed by emotion. In all their thousands of years on earth, Crowley could never recall a moment when Aziraphale, wonderful, idiotic, precious Aziraphale, looked so utterly beautiful to him. His hair was rumpled, his clothing creased and covered in stray embroidery threads, but he was the most perfect creature Crowley had ever laid eyes on.

He opened his mouth, maybe to say just that-

“Oh!” Aziraphale shouted. “Before I forget, I have a gift for you!”

The angel rushed over to the Christmas tree and pulled out a slim little box from under it. It was covered in hideous tartan wrapping paper and a big red bow. Quickly, he shoved it into Crowley’s arms. 

“It’s, it’s not much. And I know you can miracle whatever you want, really, but…” Aziraphale hesitated. “Some families traditionally make gifts for each other so. That’s what I did.”

Crowley stared at the box, reverently, before undoing the ribbon with his long fingers, letting it slide through them to the floor. He lifted the lid of the box, holding his breath. 

Inside, nestled among clean white tissue paper, was possibly the single ugliest handmade scarf he had ever seen in all of eternity. It was soft and black, with crooked loops and gaps he was pretty sure he could fit his hand through. The fringe at the ends was uneven and it would most definitely hang lopsided. 

Aziraphale nervously tugged at his collar. “It’s pretty horrid, I know. I don’t even know why I tried to make it. I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s perfect,” Crowley said fervently. “It’s absolutely perfect, you daft angel.” There was something very close to tears in Crowley’s yellow eyes when he looked up at Aziraphale after a long moment. “I don’t want you to change anything about it.”

Suddenly, he threw the box to the ground and wrapped the ugly scarf around his neck, a huge grin spreading over his face. “I love it.”

Breathing a deep sigh of relief, a thousand megawatt smile spread over Aziraphale’s face. “Oh, oh I’m just… so pleased you like it. Well, come on then, let’s eat all these sweets, that’s what holidays are for, aren’t they?”

“Wait,” Crowley said, urgently, hand darting out to grasp Aziraphale’s wrist. “I’ve got a gift for you, too.”

Surprise spread over Aziraphale’s face. “Oh, my dear, you don’t have to give me anything, you’ve given me enough as it is! I just enjoy the pleasure of your company.”

“No, no, let me,” Crowley insisted, stepping in close, right into Aziraphale’s space. “Let me give you something, too. Something I’ve never given anyone before.”

Aziraphales eyes felt heavy as Crowley warmth radiated around him. He gave a small nod, finding himself reaching for Crowley before he realized what he was actually doing. 

Slowly, so slowly, Crowley leaned in close, breath ghosting over Aziraphale’s lips. His hands slid up, resting at the juncture of the angel’s neck and jaw. 

“I hope this can be a tradition too, angel,” Crowley whispered. 

And then they were kissing, softly, slowly, like they had an eternity spread out before them. 

When they broke apart, neither moved very far, and Crowley placed another kiss on the apple of Aziraphale’s rosy cheek. He rested their foreheads together.

“Happy Christmas, Aziraphale,” he whispered, and he sunk his head to rest on the angels shoulder, embracing him tight. 

"Happy Christmas, my Crowley," the angel said, sighing into the demons hair. 

(Somewhere, on a distant shelf, a Furby cooed.)

*

_ The Gospel of Matthew 2:11-16  _

  


_‘When the wise men saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy._

_And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down, and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, and frankincense and myrrh._

_The fourth wise man presented the child with a small rattle, that when shaken made a great and annoying noise. The fourth wise man smiled, knowing the infant would give his parents many sleepless nights with this rattle._

_And lo, spaketh the wayward angel from the fields, “Crowley? What a delightful surprise!”_

_And the fourth wise man saunter ed vaguely across the manger to fling an arm around the ethereal being’s shoulders and spoke unto him, “Want to see my camel? I named it after you.”_

_Then, the wise man and the angel wandered away from the manger, leaving Mary, Joseph, the three wise men and all the creatures within confused beyond measure.’_

  


  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Jane who said she wanted "a whole holiday special of just them dumbly looking at each other over the years in love". This isn't quite that, but I blame her anyway. 
> 
> Also, all these Biblical passages are absolutely butchered to fit my own purposes, so don't sick a theologian on me, please. My Catholic guilt couldn't handle it.


End file.
